


mindfuck

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Child Abuse, Choking, Emetophilia, F/M, Grooming, Lolicon, Manipulation, Parent/Child Incest, Pseudo-Incest, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Trauma, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Snapshots which chronicle one police officer's struggle with temptation. Read author's note.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41
Collections: Anonymous





	mindfuck

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely graphic depiction of the rape of a child. All characters are fictional and I don't condone this in real life. Don't read it if it's going to trigger you. All hateful comments will be deleted.

Thirteen years, and it all comes down to this. 

The girl is barely there, small and thin, with limbs like sticks. She's never seen daylight. Her grandmother has kept her in the shadows of the old basement for all her life. The body was decomposing for five days until they got the call. A worried neighbor. _Haven't seen Mrs. Romano around for a while._ They told him it was a stroke. They did not mention the child they found; still breathing, curled up in a bed made for dogs. 

She shivers constantly, clutching a ventriloquist's doll close to her chest.

Flutey catches him looking at it. "That fucking thing," she whispers. "It gives me the creeps."

"Might have been all she had," he murmurs.

The psychiatrist makes way for the two officers, notebook and pencil poised in hand. They sit, side by side, on two fold-up chairs, while the girl shrinks away, as if she could blend in with the walls.

"Who's this?" asks Damian, summoning a smile as he indicates the doll.

The girl looks at him; probing, scrutinizing. After a moment, she opens her mouth. "Mr Marbles."

A flurry of activity, hushed whispers. Those were the first words anyone had heard her speak.

* * *

It's too easy to take her home. There aren't enough foster carers in the city to cater to her needs. Damian takes time off to buy everything. Food, bedding, toys, diapers. They said she might wet herself. 

He hoped.

They worked well together, as naturally quiet souls, content in each other's company. Damian wanted to do something about the doll. It was ugly, and its ceramic face was chipped. But somehow, he knew that whatever he was going to do to her could never come close to the unforgivable crime of getting rid of it.

He waits till it's midnight before he creeps into her room and watches her in sleep, with her lips parted, her nightdress riding up to reveal her pale, slim thighs. His hands creep up the expanse of milk-white skin, until his fingertips are resting against her hairless pussy lips. She doesn't so much as twitch, when he drags his index finger over her clit and presses against her hole, which soon begins to shine with slick.

He stays there, cupping her pussy, hard as a rock in his boxers. And then he feels it. Her warm piss running over his hand. Her quiet moan of distress. 

He freezes.

She sleeps on. He uses one hand to pull down his pants, the other soaked in piss to jerk himself off. 

* * *

Damian's always liked little girls. He used to try to punish himself. Tried God. Tried therapy. 

Then he gave up. Life is too short to deny yourself what you want. If God was real, and hated pedophiles, why did He bring an innocent little girl just begging to be raped to Damian's door?

* * *

Bathtime. She's old enough to bathe herself, but she doesn't need to know that. Doesn't need to know that the hard, hot thing she feels pressed up against her back in the tub is Damian's cock. Doesn't need to know that his fingers shouldn't be lingering in the place that they are.

Her pussy is so small. He can barely fit a finger inside, so he settles for pressing a thumb into her clit, revelling in the way her thighs fall open and she shudders in pleasure, eyes rolling back like a dumb little whore. She doesn't know what's happening. She doesn't understand that she's being molested. And that's what pushes Damian over the edge; his semen mixing with her bubble bath.

"Get on the bed, baby. Dad needs to check that you're clean down there."

And she just does it, like that. No questions. No whining or sulking. Damian is in love with her, and the way her cunt flutters around his finger when she comes on his tongue. She tastes clean and innocent. She squirms and pulls at his hair when he sucks on her swollen, overstimulated clit, but he doesn't stop, until she's arching up, overcome with too much pleasure for such a tiny little body.

* * *

They talk about enrolling her in school. Damian pretends to go along with it, chipping in that he thinks she needs a little more time to adjust. In truth, he doesn't think she needs to learn anything else but how to take his cock. She's stupid. Clearly braindead. He means it in the kindest way; that forcing her to try to learn will only distress her. 

A few months, then, until she starts the semester. At home, she learns how to keep quiet when she's sitting on Daddy's lap, and he pulls her panties aside to push a dry finger up into her asshole. 

They watch Disney movies. She tries to keep still while he grinds his cock against her bare pussy, smearing wet precome against her labia, still fingering her ass.

* * *

Deep down, he knows the rules are a bad idea. Children internalize things, and if she really is going to school, then he can't risk her letting slip that rule number four is _no clothes in the house._ On the day they choose to celebrate her ninth birthday, Damian kisses her. He puts his tongue down her throat while he squeezes her underdeveloped little tits, pinching at her nipples till she's crying out into his mouth.

By this time, her pussy gets wet without him even having to touch it. He wants to fuck her, split her open on his prick and listen to her wail. He wants to push the head of his cock up against her cervix and breed her, dump load after load of cum into her pussy till she's sore. Invite some friends. Share the wonder. Watch her force out a baby from her nine-year-old cunt and slide right back inside her. Watch her suckle on her newborn son's cocklet. 

* * *

It gets worse.

* * *

Damian takes pictures. 

He isn't sure where to put them yet, too suspicious of the internet and the ways you can be traced. But he's worked enough cases in his time on the force to know where to go. What to do when you want to share images of your adoptive daughter, unconscious on your bed, Dad's fat prick plugging up her babycunt. 

He's starting to lose control, just a little. Every time he tries to reign himself in, he goes harder the next day. 

He looks through his camera roll. This one, he calls _mindfuck._ She's cupping her chest, drooling, while Damian stands behind her and stuffs her cunt with three of his fingers. 

Today, he's mindless with it. "Get on your knees," he says. And he feeds his cock into her mouth, ignoring her frantic squeaking, just sliding deeper and deeper until it's is surrounding by warm, wet, twitching flesh.

He rapes her throat until she's screaming, gasping for breath, her face a mess of mucus and tears and cum. He grabs a fistful of her hair, and starts jackhammering in faster, harder, yanking her head back for a better angle.

Then, he feels her teeth. Furious, he slaps her. 

"Try anything like that again, and you'll die choking on my cock," he tells her, breathlessly. He can barely think straight. He pries her jaw open and slides home again, cum spurting down her throat, ignoring the way her entire body convulses with the need for air.

* * *

He thinks about that too. Watching the light dim in her eyes. Lifeless as a ragdoll, free to use as he pleases. 

* * *

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Damian whispers.

"Why?" Bianca asks him, voice like wind through rushes. He brings her honey with lemon juice, to try to soothe her throat. He tries not to think about the feeling of it spasming around his cock.

He sighs. "Some men have... urges, sweetheart," he says carefully. "What you did... what I did to you with my penis, that made me feel really good. Sometimes men want a pretty girl to make them feel good."

Bianca doesn't answer. She sips at her drink. Damian waits for the sedative to take effect.

* * *

She's dead to the world. Her chest rises and falls, but when Damian calls her name, there's nothing in response. 

His cockhead looks enormous compared to her tiny, pink asshole. 

He fucks inside anyway. He almost misses her screams, but being able to ruin her without so much as a whimper has its appeal too. He thrusts so hard her entire body is thrown forward, and he's rutting like an animal, hips pistoning back and forth to drive deeper inside her. 

When he's done, buried balls-deep and groaning her name, his cum flooding into her ass, he spreads her legs and takes a picture. Her gaping hole, twitching and red, with his spend dripping out of it and down her thighs.

There's blood too. He has to be careful. If a doctor sees the damage he's done to her body; the bruising, the internal bleeding, then it's game over. But he can't stop. He's never going to stop. 

* * *

When people ask him why he wanted to be a cop, he never really had an answer, until now.

* * *

Bianca says, "Daddy... can you please stop touching me?"

She hasn't said much since she arrived. 

Damian sees red. He beats her black and blue, and when she finally stops trying to run away, cowered in a corner just like when they first found her, he forces her to lay down. He sits on her chest, so delicate he might break ribs, and lets her lick his balls for a while. An apology. A reminder of her place. 

He leans back a little and spanks her bare cunt, treasuring her startled moan. Then, he pushes his cock into her mouth until she pukes on it. He doesn't quit. Just uses his prick to force the vomit back down.

Later on, he makes her watch while he takes a sledgehammer to her doll's face.

"Cheer up," he tells her, one hand wrapped around her throat, the other rubbing furiously at her sore, dry pussy, while she cries and screams and sobs. "It could have been you."

* * *

All good things come to an end. _But fuck... not like this. Please God._

Sirens. Blue and red lights; his stomach churning. If only he'd never uploaded those pictures. If only he'd kept this to himself.

* * *

"Tell her, Bianca. Please. Please tell the lady I didn't hurt you, or touch you," Damian begs. 

Bianca's head turns, independent of her body, like the doll she carries around. Her arms wrap tighter around its limp and long limbs; faceless, soon to be repaired. 

"Come on, honey, you don't have to talk to him," says Flutey. Her eyes, once warm, are now like shards of ice, chilling Damian to the bone. He feels sick. The world spins, and he feels like he's going to pass out.

Bianca's hand finds its way into the police officer's, seeking assurance. A small furrow appears on her smooth, pale brow.

"He raped me," she says.

Sound fades away. Mouths move, eyes narrow, but Damian doesn't hear any of it. He watches them go, hand in hand, before he feels biting cold metal close around his wrists.


End file.
